This story begins with an extensive journey beginning with a Saturday afternoon search for Halloween costumes throughout the metropolis that is Seoul proper (
the largest city in the OECD developed world). After all, my favorite holiday is only a few short weeks away, and I still have no idea of whom I should dress up. Considerations have been Gandhi, Jesus, or a 'Father' Teresa character. I'm still trying to pin down an idea, and will hopefully have something before this weekend. But I digress. The point being, I spent the better part of the day traveling around the city, scouring every costume and uniform shop that I can find.
I then meet up with a group of friends to attend the annual
Seoul Fireworks Festival. The festival takes place on a small island in the middle of the Han river, in an area known as Yeoido. The location is not a convenient one, so it took a considerable length of time to finally get there. So after several hours of traveling, we eventually arrive at a large intersection which has been cordoned off for us spectators. Our longer than expected journey caused us to miss the beginning of the show, but our struggles proved worth the humungous hassle, as the firework displays were perhaps the finest ones I've ever witnessed. And to think that during the week I wasn't even convinced the show was worth seeing.
Here's a taste of what some spectators were able to see:
Seoul had been expecting a huge turnout for this show, which was well founded, as it seemed like the entire city was crammed onto this tiny island. Our group was crammed into an insignificant patch of real estate among the throng of humanity. We were standing on the edge of a sizable highway, behind a guardrail which prevented cars & us from falling over the steep edge, directly in front of the launch pad. To our backs was a large grassy hill, about 30 feet high, and on top of that was row of small apartment complexes. Most people were also standing in the street, but there was a small group sitting at the bottom of the hill & an even smaller group, likely the homeowners, watching the show from the roofs of the apartments. The small hill became gradually steeper as it ascended, with roughly a 50 degree incline at the top, near the buildings.
As we and the crowd were enjoying the display, suddenly a dull voice rang out. It was a man mumbling something, which everyone initially ignored. The noises continued for several moments, and the crowd's attention was eventually drawn to the shrill screams of a woman. At first, the rushed & frantic Korean language was completely indecipherable to us. But after a moment of continued yelling, we all picked up on an unmistakable repeated string of exclamations, 'Ah-gi! Ah-gi!', one vocabulary word I correctly recalled to be
baby.
Apparently, a stray spark from one of the fireworks landed on the upper part of the hill, in a pile of debris & a large growth of weeds. The weather has been especially devoid of rain lately, which has contributed to dry plants and much dead plant material - creating many areas ripe for quick ignition. All of these factors came together in a perfect storm to form to a small, but rapidly growing, brush fire. To make things worse, the nearest apartment building had a wooden patio in the rear, hanging over the very place where the brush fire was quickly spreading.
In the moments as everyone became aware of the pending disaster, the crowd was silent & there was an air of disbelief. Just then, we were all horrified as the brush fire began to spread up one of the wooden posts, directly below what appeared to be a small plastic carrier of some sort. Perhaps it was indifference, but I am guessing that everyone was paralyzed by their fear & no one quite knew what to do. So, relying on years of volunteer fire fighting training & an uncanny lack of regard for my personal safety, I spring into action & do what no one else was able to do. I shove my way through the crowd, leap over a short fence at the bottom of the hill, and sprint up the hill towards the apartment buildings. Within seconds, my face can feel the heat of the blaze that is quickly beginning to engulf the rear corner of the porch.
Now standing underneath the overhanging patio, I can distinctly hear the screams of a distraught mother and the faint whispers of a young child. Realizing the urgency of the situation, I scan the area for a ladder or staircase. Of course, there is nothing, so I quickly grab onto the only unconsumed post and begin to shimmy myself up to the porch - a climb of about 5 meters, or roughly 15 feet. In less than 5 seconds, I reach the top and haul myself onto the floor of the porch. The nearly inaudible cries of the infant child are now echoing in my ears as I reach for the tiny basket. Then, with the treasure safely in my hands, I raise him up to the outstretched arms of his crying mother.
Finding an inability to climb above to safety, I then turn around to find myself surrounded by the blaze. Realizing that the fire has spread to the side of the porch from where I came, essentially cutting off my only option of getting back down, my only course of action for escape is to jump from my current position. Again, a significant drop existed between the porch and the hill below, which would create a scary sight for most people. But with time not being on my side, I do the only thing that I can, secure my footing to the ledge, and jump towards the only grassy area beneath.
In order to break a large fall such as this, one must roll to distribute the shock from such a sudden cessation of motion. The sole option was to land on the steep part of the hill, so the roll didn't stop exactly where I was planning. I tumble head over heels down this huge hill, with my momentum finally being arrested by the fence at the bottom of the slope. And in true Murphy's Law fashion, the full brunt of the impact is absorbed by my face.
With the adrenaline still surging through my body, I am feebly able to get back on my feet, only to collapse into unconsciousness. The remaining details were hazy, at best, but involved being taken to the hospital to repair my wounds. The following is the aftermath, but was a small price to pay for the satisfaction of saving the life of a precious toddler:
These were the details and the order of events as I recall them. Any eyewitnesses to the scene are kindly invited to add their remembrances of the story.
Thanks to everyone, especially the kind men and women of the Seoul Firefighters Association, who have been so kind as to nominate me for the 2011 Civilian Rescue Awards.
About a month ago, I was informed that Seoul would be hosting an amateur, confirmedly American-style gluttony festival (i.e., a 'competitive eating competition') hosted by the Korean corporation, NY Hot Dog & Coffee. Given my citizenship, proclivity to revel in overeating, and a lack of aversion to stomach pains, I was truly amazed that I'd never participated in one of these kinds of events. Guess that I'd never been presented with a comfortable place to publicly display food binging. Nothing could keep me from embracing this golden chance. Further, as if there was any need for additional encouragement, the presenting company would be offering prizes for the best eaters AND the event would be highly publicized afterwards. You're telling me there's a free lunch? And I'll be famous for it?! And I also might win stuff!?
For another oddity, this company that hawks an unambiguously American cuisine (well, as close as possible), is Korean. Throughout my time abroad, I've constantly come across this US-centric phenomenon. This usually produces good results (case in point), but never ceases to feel unsettling each time a McDonald's moves into a new location.
